


A Close Call

by cowboykylo69



Series: The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Din Djarin's Helmet Stays on During Sex, F/M, Injury, Mutual Pining, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylo69/pseuds/cowboykylo69
Summary: After bounty hunting in the jungle, Mando comes back to the Crest with many pent up... feelings.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024590
Comments: 15
Kudos: 378





	A Close Call

The sweltering heat was heavy, drowning you in your own sweat as you walked deeper into vines, tall grass and thick foliage of the unfamiliar jungle.

The air was humid, the forest vast and dense, filled with shades of greens that you never thought you’d experience with your own eyes. You were seeing colours you had only previously dreamt of. It was such a stark contrast to the ice planet you had been on maybe a week prior to this. You weren’t sure which extreme you preferred but you were not the biggest fan of the way the humidity was making your hair puff out, curl exaggeratedly and stick to your neck and forehead with the sheen layer of sweat coated on every inch of your body. Your clothes were beginning to stick to your skin as well.

Mando was a fan of that, however. Yet the helmet gave away nothing, as always. 

The moment you landed on the planet, he noticed the way your chest heaved, taking in the supple, fresh air for the first time. The look of wonder in your eyes, taking in the flora and fauna you could only have only ever dreamed of previous to this. You were very endearing, it made his heart feel heavy, tense, as if you were squeezing it in your perfect little hand, bleeding him dry.

You couldn’t believe this was your life now; travelling with a deadly bounty hunter, caring for him and his adoptive child day and night. What was even stranger, perhaps, was that you were having the time of your life.

No matter how cold Mando could be, how rude, closed off or just straight up silent he could get some days. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was much better than your life on that dingey planet, working that dead end job in the scummiest bar in town. You tried not to think too much of your past, but you couldn’t help the few untamed thoughts that crossed your mind every now and then. You shrugged them off with relative ease, usually being whisked away in some task the Mandalorian asked you to complete, or by the cries of the Child.

No matter how hard the days could get, no matter how lonely you felt some nights, you were thankful for the loving affection of the kid, you were thankful for how much he seemed to care for you. And you cared for him in return. Not because it was what you signed up for, to more or less be his babysitter, but because you truly cared and maybe even loved the little green booger like he was your own. He was very sweet, kind, curious and reckless like Mando. You liked how they seemed so similar in some strange little ways, it made your heart feel heavy.

Heavy with some emotion you wouldn’t dare name because it would only fuck you up further, fuck up the missions, fuck up your tasks, fuck up everything. That sickening feeling you got in the pit of your stomach everytime you caught Mando talking to the Child, staring at him sweetly, catching the way he seemed to stare at you sometimes too. At least you think he was. Whatever, that helmet made it near impossible to ever tell what he was thinking, feeling or even just looking at.

No matter how little he was actually beginning to warm up to you, he was still extremely apprehensive and closed off. He had his moments of perceived kindness, gentleness or whatever it really was, but he always seemed to take five steps back when he realized he had been too vulnerable with you. 

You couldn't blame him though, he was on the run from people who were trying to take the kid from him, or busy chasing after bounties himself, he didn’t have time for… whatever it was you were feeling. Whatever emotion you were terrible at suppressing, you know without a doubt that Mando didn’t have time for such trivial, childish things.

You huff and look down to your side, the Child’s pod floating seamlessly along your side, the two of you just a few steps behind Mando.

The Mandalorian was tracking a bounty and he said there was a good chance he’d be on this jungle planet seeking refuge with a friend or something like that. You had literally begged him to come along, not wanting to spend another day alone in the ship with the Child. It had taken a few days to get here, and you desperately needed to stretch your legs and breathe some fresh air. Mando was reluctant, very reluctant, but after enough begging and pouting from you he allowed for the two of you to come along, figuring it would be a pretty easy quest anyways.

Oh how he was wrong about that.

His visor display was showing multiple footsteps having walked in the same direction that the three of you were now walking. The footsteps were strange, seeming to be left by a herd of long bodied, four legged animals. Mando had no way of knowing if they were a threat or not, but he had a feeling he’d be finding out soon enough. The Child’s safety and… and yours was not something he felt like gambling with today.

Mando stopped dead in his tracks and you nearly walked right into him, having been engrossed in a more or less one-sided conversation with the Child.

“Head back to the ship.” Mando commanded, his voice trying to give the sense that there was no room for discussion. He barely even turned around to glance at you, but you noticed his hand hovering over his blaster.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Your own hand now hovers over your own blaster, technically Mando’s but he had trusted you to wield it after that one stunt back on Batuu when you saved him and the Child.

“Animals. Too many of them, you’ll be safer on the Crest.” He turns to glance at the Child who coos back up at him, his ears turning downwards as if he too knows of the animals which creep up on the three of you.

“No, I can stay and fight. I’m not leaving.” _You, I’m not leaving you,_ you want to add. But you bite your tongue.

You can’t see because of the hemet but Mando is rolling his eyes at you, at your stubbornness but also your resilience. How eager you are to stand by and help him almost blindly. He doesn’t doubt that you judge him or criticize him in your mind, but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a negative comment leave your mouth. You’re always sweet to him. _Sweet girl._

“Our job is to take care of the Child, make sure he’s safe,” He huffs, pressing a few buttons on his vambrace and suddenly the Child’s pod is floating away at a leisurely pace, back in the direction you’ve just come from. “Follow it back to the ship, close the hatch and do not leave until I’ve returned.”

You glare at Mando and how he’s given you no choice but to head back to the ship. There was no way you’d leave the Child floating unattend, and without Mando’s directions, you had no way of finding the ship again on your own. You sigh but turn on your heels after the pod, following its lead through the jungle and back to the Crest like Mando had programmed it to.

//

It’s been hours.

Or at least it feels like it’s been hours. You aren’t aware of the planet’s day cycles so you have no idea if it's been minutes, hours or days but it was dark now and you’d been trying to keep the kid occupied, distracted from the fact that his dad wasn’t here and you had no idea when he would be.

Luckily, the Child was in an agreeable mood so he was distracted pretty easily, playing with various shiny things that he usually reached for on the ship. You made him a couple of snacks with what you managed to find stashed away, he took a nap and you cleaned up the tiny mess he made. Overall, a pretty good day for him.

You on the other hand, were fucking _stressed_.

It was dark, really dark, and Mando hadn’t even contacted you on the comlink, not that he even did that before but you think that if he comes back- no, _when_ he comes back - you’re definitely going to make that a new rule.

The Child was rocking sweetly in your arms, you had been trying to get him to fall asleep for the past thirty minutes and he was finally getting a bit dopey. Those big eyes of his seeming to get heavier, his blinks growing slower. His little hand was wrapped around your thumb and you quietly hummed a random song to him, maybe it was one your mother sang to you, you’re not quite sure but it seems to be doing the trick.

You can hear small disturbances outside the hatch and you use your hand which isn’t holding the Child to hover over your- Mando’s blaster. You lean against the wall, blaster in hand, hoping, praying it’s him.

_Please be him, please be him, please be him._

The hatch groans as it releases its locks and opens slowly to the ever humid jungle. That familiar beskar glints and shines in the moonlight like a precious jewel. You exhale a much needed sigh of relief, Mando was back.

You tuck the blaster back into your holster as you watch him roundup the bounty into the ship, pushing him aggressively up the inclination. He stands wide, broad and big as he does his job. He’s tired, annoyed, you can tell. You can always tell, but he’s strong too, always strong.

The quarry’s hands are shackled, his face beat up and bloodied. Mando really did a number on him… 

The quarry’s eyes meet yours, take in the sight before him, a beautiful young girl cradling a strange green baby. He seems confused, he looks back to the intimidating Mandalorian inquisitively. It’s the last thing he sees before he’s frozen into carbonite.

You say something something to him, to Mando. You sound worried, but he can barely make it out. He saw the way the quarry’s eyes racked the length of your body, landing on the Child as well. Mando saw red, his adrenaline still pumping heavy and potent in his veins, coursing through his body from the chase, the act of hunting. 

So much so, that he hadn’t even realized he had come to tower over you, caging you in against the wall which you had been leaning against.

You look up at him with wide, worried eyes, you look flustered, lips red and swollen. He wants to touch you, he… he wants to do more than touch you-

The Child’s sleepy cooing breaks him out of his wicked mind. He looks down at the kid who reaches for him sleepily with his tiny hands, eyes half closed. He takes him from you, out of your motherly hold. Your hands brush and he wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves.

“What did you say?” He finally asks, remembering you had said something to him and he heard absolutely nothing.

“I said your arm is bleeding, Mando.” Voice so small, gentle. 

Mando huffs, barely acknowledging it before he steps away from you, turning to the Child’s pod and placing him gently inside. It closes with a hiss. You suck in a shuddering breath.

Mando rummages around for a few moments before pulling out his tool kit, sitting down on the edge of his cot and pulling out his taser-like contraption. You watch almost dumbfounded, trying to piece together what exactly it is he’s doing. He reaches for the tear in the thick material of his sleeve, pulling on it and tearing it further to better show off his wound and his… his skin.

 _Flesh_. Mando’s arm.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be looking, maybe you were breaking his creed by seeing part of his skin but you couldn’t look away, and he made no motion for you to do so either. So you stand transfixed as he begins to shoddily cauterize his tanned skin.

“L-Let me help you, please.” You take a step forward, towards him, hands reaching out.

“I’m fine.” He basically growls at you, his rough tone startling you, stopping you in your tracks.

So you stand by idly, watching him burn his own skin, attempting to close his own wound.

You only interject again when he starts taking longer breaks between each electrifying tase. When his hand starts to shake and his movements slow down, motivation and determination leaving him as he slowly accepts the pain of the deep gash on his arm, blood trailing down his toned bicep.

“Here…” You say quietly again, hoping he listens to you this time. You reach into the tool kit, pulling out his bacta gel before coming to stand in front of him, your knees grazing his bent one from where he sits on the edge of his cot. 

He seems to have listened, his movements having stopped, the taser held weakly in his hand. You take it from him, setting it back in the metal box before zeroing in on his bleeding cut.

You shudder at the sudden proximity, his pent up adrenaline and anger palpable, intoxicating, thick and heavy in the air between your two bodies. Your hands shake as you gently douse the wound with the gel, trying to stay focused, trying to get the bleeding to stop. You fingers brush gingerly along toned, scarred skin and you try, you try so fucking hard to focus. To not let your fingers linger, not let them wander to regions unknown to any other living thing.

Mando groans as it begins to seep into the wound and you wince as well, feeling his pain as your own. You mumble a quiet ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ but continue to apply the thick substance to his bicep. His gloved hand suddenly shoots out and latches onto your hip bone, fingers grasping the clothed flesh in a deadly grip, as if trying to ground himself to you, to the ship, to ignore the throbbing pain. You didn’t realize it would hurt that bad, maybe it went deeper than you thought. 

When you’re finally done with the gel, you turn slightly to get some gauze to wrap the wound in. Mando’s touch never leaves you, his hand seemingly welded into your form. His thumb begins to absentmindedly rub up and down in soothing motions, you try to ignore the way it makes your heart pound but… but it's not really a big deal is it? No, Mando’s touched you before, what's so different about it now?

The air? The tension? The way he looks up at you, through that mask, begging to be seen?

_God, you wonder what colour his eyes are._

You bet they’re soft, beautiful, kind. They probably give away how secretly gentle he is, something no one else would notice or dare assume about the deadly Mandalorian, but you know. You know because he’s been touching you more lately, especially since the ice planet. Just passing touches but still, you can’t imagine how much significance a simple touch holds for a man covered head to toe in armour, and who’s never shown his face to another living being in decades.

“Who are you?”

His voice startles you. It’s dropped several octaves since he last spoke, it felt like hours had passed since he last spoke- or more, growled at you.

“What?”

“What are you? H-How do you do this to me?” He helmet tilts to the side as he gazes up at you and your heart fucking pounds in its cage, trying to escape and expose itself to this metal man, expose everything you’ve been feeling since you met him.

“Mando-” You don’t understand what he’s saying, he’s not making any sense. Could the pain really be that bad? Making him this incoherent?

“You’re not real… you’re too good, to us, too good to the child… to me-” He was rambling. Mando was rambling. When has he ever spoken this much to you before?

_Never._

“You’re good to me too.” You interject meekly.

“But not as sweet… not as sweet as you.” His words make your next intake of breath sharper than usual, no doubt he catches it by the way his helmet tilts up further. You wonder if he’s looking you in the eyes. It sure feels like he is.

“I-I don’t know what I would do if, if anything happened to-” His fingers tense on your hip as he lulls over his words, tossing them around on his tongue, _afraid_. “The Child… or you.”

“You keep us safe Mando.” You try to reassure him, but you’re not sure if he’s listening. His other hand joins his other, both sides of your hips now engulfed in his hold. You throb everywhere, your body pulses for him.

Mando thinks about just letting his helmet fall forward, to let it rest against the softness of your belly but.

But he can’t. He’s too fucking scared. You scare him more than anything. More than any unknown animal in an unfamiliar jungle, more than any quarry, bounty chase, Mythosaur. More than anything, you scare him more than anything because this is the only domain Mando truly always fucks up. Feelings or whatever the fuck he’s feeling right now.

“You take such good care of us.” He says, deflecting your words.

He pulls on your hips and you rock forward, almost losing your balance but your hands come forward to lean against his beskar covered shoulders, dropping the gauze you held. You shudder at the cool bite of the metal on your warm, overheating palms. Mando barely budged at your added weight, and you look down at him from where you now tower over him.

Your eyes rake over the sharp edges of his helmet in the low light of the hatch, down to his wound which still needs to be wrapped up but he was…. Seriously distracting you for lack of a better word. You notice the heave of his chest, the heavy fall of his breaths like he’s having trouble getting oxygen into his body. And then you notice- you notice the bulge forming underneath his thick pants.

Mando takes you in as you do the same, watching as you finally notice his state, finally notice what you do to him. What you’ve _been_ doing to him since the moment he met you.

“Take your pants off.”

You think your brain short circuits.

Because there’s no way that’s what Mando has more or less just ordered you to do, judging by his harsh tone.

“Wha-”

“Take them off or I will.” He groans, hands squeezing your hips again.

You whimper and bite your lip, trying to see through the pitch black T of his visor, trying to find the man underneath the beskar. You remove your trembling hands from his shoulders, standing up straighter and letting them travel down, down, down towards the button and fly of your utility pants.

“M-Mando, I-” 

“Don’t make me ask you again, sweet girl.” You whimper at the nickname, it wasn't the first time he used it but this was probably only the third time at this point. With his thumbs relentlessly caressing your hip bones, you shiver underneath his touch.

You had been dreaming of this for months now, dreaming of his hands on you, sexual or not, you were so deprived of intimacy, having gone months now only barely touching, grazing each other. You both needed this, both needed this more than fucking anything esle right now and you were _no one_ to deny him of what he wanted.

Mando keeps the helmet trained on you as your nimble fingers pry the button open, admiring how easily persuaded you were by his thick, lust-laced words. He couldn’t believe he had managed to draw this out as long as he did, his urge to just tear your clothing away from your body and sink his raging cock into your tight heat the moment he entered the Crest was…. overwhelming to say the least.

But he had barely touched you up until now, and he wanted to work you up to it a little bit, no matter how much restraint that meant he had to have on his part.

The sound of your metal zipper sliding down below your belly button tests that restraint. He keeps his eyes on you even though he knows you wouldn't be able to tell where he’s looking. He knows you feel it, knows you feel the way his eyes burn holes into you, devouring you silently, pleading with you, _please, please show me._

He feels your hands come to rest over top of his gently, as if you’re still nervous about touching him. You interlace your fingers with his and lower your pants, shimmying them down your hips and thighs together. It makes Mando’s breath catch in his throat and his heart pummel in his chest. 

Never had he undressed someone before. Never had the patience, never cared to. But with you, _oh with you._

Maker, did he care.

Maybe cared too much, but now was not the time for such ill inducing thoughts. You were becoming more and more bare to him as the seconds passed. You only let go of his hands once your pants went past your knees. Pushing them down to your ankles, you stepped out of them, kicking off your boots as well.

There you were, standing before him in a black tank top and that fucking thong of yours… of course that’s what you had decided to wear today. Mando groans as his hands come up to touch you again, tentatively this time. He can’t believe you were allowing him this, letting him touch you, letting yourself be vulnerable with him when he wasn’t sure how ready he was to be vulnerable in return.

Maybe he could learn.

His hands travel up to your hips again, toying with the thin waistband of your panties, letting his gloved hand run along your pristine flesh that was once covered in ugly bruises. He-

He thinks he wants to be the only thing to bruise you. From now on, he made a promise to himself (and to you, secretly) that he was the only thing in this galaxy that could mark you up, claim you.

Mando’s hands travel back, reaching for the supple meat of your ass, clutching it in his large hands before he pushes you forwards again, into him. You yelp as you land in his lap, catching yourself quickly as both of your knees rest on either side of his hips. You readjust and sit back down, your minimally clothed cunt coming to land on his hard bulge, you gasp, eyes wide as you look into his visor. _He was so hard, he felt big too._

“S-Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“What are you apologizing for now, hmm?” He asks tauntingly, helmet tilting slightly to the side.

His gloved hands come up your sides, going underneath your tank top and brushing along the underside of your breasts, feeling the tight skin. You unintentionally rock in his lap, creating friction on your already embarrassingly wet center. Mando’s hands tighten at your sides, groaning as he tries to still your movements but. But it feels too fucking good to stop.

He brings a gloved finger to your lips, running the worn leather over the pillowy flesh. You look at him, confused. 

“Bite.” He instructs, voice clipped, sharp. 

Without needing further instruction, your teeth latch onto the absolute tip of his glove, letting him slip his hand out of its leather confines, revealing to you the most precious amount of skin of his you’ve ever seen. 

Tanned skin, thick fingers, large palm, perfect. _Him_. The urge to litter the rough calloused skin in kisses, lick his entire hand, just put the whole fucking thing in your mouth was all consuming. Yet you sat there in his lap staring at his hand like it was a vase of water and you were a flower, parched for water. He asked you to do the same with the other glove and of course, you did as he asked. You wanted to please him.

You stared at his bare, rough, strong hands in awe, watched as he let them peek underneath your thin top to skim along your silky smooth flesh, an expanse unknown to him. His fingertips brush over your nipples, feeling how the pretty buds pebble for him. He twists and pulls them in between his fingers, watching the way your face contorts in pain and in pleasure. It’s his new favourite thing, he feels drunk off of you already.

“Mando, _please_.” You aren’t quite sure what you’re begging for, Mando isn’t really sure either. But he knows one thing, and it's that the sweet sound of your voice, begging for him, begging for _anything_ , just so desperate, was enough to make him cum in his pants. His fingers dig into your skin, trying to cool his overheating mind, trying to slow down a bit before he actually _does_ cum in his pants, before he’s even properly seen you.

His bare hands come down to your panties, toying with them again between his agile fingers.

“You want this?” He asks, daringly pushing your panties to the side, getting the smallest glimpse and your slicked up and drenched pussy. He thinks he could die right now, die happy, never want anything, ask for anything again.

“Yeah, yeah I do, always- have.” You choke on a hiccup, emotions welling in your eyes already from how fucking pent up all of this is. You feel like you were both about to burst at the seams. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, even if it were to stop now and not progress any further, you couldn’t believe he had allowed you this much of him.

Mando wraps his arm around you completely, gripping your waist tightly to spin you around, pinning you underneath him in the tight space of his cot. You gasp, shriek at the sensation of it all, as he comes to rut against you, grinding his thick bulge into your cunt.

You notice how his arm has begun to bleed again, the skin ripping open and the deep red liquid trickling down what little part of his bicep was exposed, further proving his humanity, exposing the man beneath the beskar. You really felt like you could cry.

Lost in your whirlwind, Mando pulls off your thong, throwing it somewhere unpreciously behind him before doing the same thing with your tank top. Completely vulnerable, you laid bare before him as he hovered above you, covered head to toe, save for his hands, in beskar. That fact alone made you throb deep inside. The sheer power and size of him enough to get you off. 

You knew what little he had already decided to show you was all he could afford, you were so grateful for it anyway, that he was even willing to show you his hands, the little glimpse of his bicep. His skin was beautiful, but you couldn’t possibly grasp the words to tell him.

So you hook your legs around his backside and pull him to you, silently begging him to do something, anything. You would take anything he gave you, you’d even thank him for it at this point.

“ _Fuck_.” Mando growls, bare hands coming to work at unbuttoning his pants, pulling them low enough to pull out his engorged, thick cock.

Mando was… he was huge.

This came hardly as a surprise to you, however. You would have had to be blind to not noticed how he walked, walked like it was big, talked like it was big, _fought_ like it was big. But fuck.

You were not prepared for _that_.

“Mando, I-I don’t know if it’ll-”

“It will.”

You moan and arch your back towards him, needing it now, needing that sweet burn and stretch that you know is about to come.

And oh does it come.

Mando thrusts into you without further warning, giving you no time or preparation to adjust to what he was packing. He makes you take it. He makes it fit.

The stretch burns, it bites and it knocks every single breath and thought from your body as he nestles himself up against your cervix. Your body convulses in retreat, trying to push him away from the aggressive intrusion but your mind wants more, _needs more_. Needs him to fucking split you in half on his cock.

You scream and Mando growls, loud, his helmet falling forward and resting in the crook of your shoulder which meets your neck. His helmet is cold and your skin is burning hot, it creates a fog on his visor and he desperately tries to wipe it off on your skin, trying to look at you so up close. The way your eyes screw shut, squeezing tears out, watching the beautiful dew drops roll down your cheek so perfectly.

It hurts. Maker, does it hurt but fuck does it feel good. The pleasure overrides the pain more than you could imagine and you find yourself begging him to give you more even though he’s already started thrusting into you like he’s on a mission, a mission to sever you in half with his cock.

He was surely succeeding.

Mando watches you cry in pleasure as he fucks into your pussy with such aggressive fervour, like someone had a gun to his head.

One hand on your hip and the other around your neck, bruising your skin in that beautiful way he always wanted, how he always dreamed of. He holds you in place so that his hips don’t drive you up his cot because they surely would from how fucking deep and hard he’s pounding into you. _Stars_ , you think you can feel him in your stomach, in your throat.

The hand on your hip travels up to one of your bouncing breasts, kneading the sotf flesh in his palm and watching you wither beneath him. So desperate -

“S-so helpless.” He moans, watching your body bend to his will beneath him.

“Mando- _oh my god_.” You cry, hands and arms flailing at your sides, not knowing where to put them. Mando sees your struggle and takes both of your hands into each of his, pinning them above your head and using it to drive into you even harder somehow.

Your pussy squelches obscenely, trying to suck him in deeper, keep him inside forever. The only sounds in the hatch are fucking lewd, skin on skin rythmically slapping. You pray the Child can’t hear any of this from inside his pod, you pray he’s asleep.

“So _fucking_ wet... You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” You nod your head so fast you think you’d give yourself whiplash.

“A-Anything, anything Mando- _fuck_.” That familiar coil was beginning to tighten in your belly, your toes curling, fisting gripping onto his, no doubt cutting off some of his circulation.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your chest arches up, up, up your breasts rubbing against unforgiving beskar. 

Underneath said beskar, Mando felt like he wasn’t getting nearly enough oxygen into his helmet, his skin flushing underneath the heavy armour but the pleasure rolling off of you and into him would be enough to sustain him for hours, he thinks.

Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, the ridges of your inner walls so soft, warm, wet, inviting. You felt like home. Absolutely fucking drenched, no wonder you were able to take him whole with almost zero preparation, _you had fucking wanted it that way._ Wanted him to be rough like this.

“I’ll never leave you- never leave this sweet pussy...” He moans, hips stuttering, rolling and grinding deeper and deeper and you felt your orgasm quickly approaching, his words were only bringing you that much closer.

“Please, I- I…”

“Cum for me s-sweet girl, need you to cum for me.” He groans, cool and sharp edges of his helmet resting on your cheekbone.

You envisioned the faceless man deep inside you, what his face must look like now, deep in the throes of pleasure only inches from yours. You pictured the tanned skin covering his entire body head to toe, flushed and splotchy, hot to the touch. Would his eyes screw shut? Would his mouth hang open, little pants, groans, moans slipping through swollen lips, only loud enough for the ears of his lover to hear?

Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you try to look into his visor as your orgasm wipes your mind blank, eyes screwing shut, an endless stream of tears falling onto already damp cheeks as you moan and cry his name into the tight space of his cot.

_Mando._

_Mando._

_Mando._

You don’t think you could recall anything if anyone asked you. Not the name of the planet you were currently on, not the name of the planet you were born on, the bar you used to work at, your old bosses name, _your name_. Nothing.

With two, three, four more thrusts, Mando’s hips still after he drills himself into the deepest and darkest parts of your hot cunt, spilling white hot cum into you with the lowest moan you think you’ve ever heard flowing deep from within his chest. You gasp at the sensation, that warm pleasant feeling of being absolutely stuffed full, somehow more than you already were.

He draws his cock out before pushing it back in, plugging you up with his cum, pushing it deeper and deeper inside of you. You cry, bordering on overstimulation, his cock only softening in the slightest so the hard intrusion was almost too much for you to bear.

“Fuck Mando I’m- I don’t have the implant..”

Mando feels another surge of blood to his cock at your words, groaning as his dick twitches and thrusting into you a few more times…. For.

For good measure, he thinks.

Not that he would necessarily want that- right now but fuck. Fuck did the mere idea of it make him painfully hard. You…. swollen with-

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling away from you a bit to better look down at you. Your eyes are shiny, lashes coated thick and wet with your precious tears. Lips swollen, chest flushed. You look worried, beautiful. _His_. 

But then he remembers your old job at the bar…. Wouldn’t they have made it mandatory that all the girls to have the implant to prevent them from getting... from getting pregn-

“But- your job, you-?”

“I didn’t do that, I didn’t fuck them… just drinks.” You smile up softly at him, bashful nonetheless. 

Mando likes that, it puts him at ease in some fucked up way to know that those men in those types of places couldn’t get too far with you. Even if they wanted to. 

“We can, I can get it for you… on the next planet if- if that’s what you want?” He asks, hips still gently thrusting into you and you start to see stars behind your eyelids. You whimper, feeling his cum mix with your and gush back onto his cock and down the backs of your thighs.

“O-okay… thank you.” Mando nods but says nothing, pulling his cock from your ever fluttering pussy. You gasp at the sudden loss, feeling terribly empty and used. More cum dribbles from you and you quickly cup your cunt with your palm, trying to stop it from leaking everywhere on his cot.

Moving quicker than you would have expected, Mando stands up straight and tucks his wet cock back into his pants before walking away abruptly. You, however, barely notice as you lay flat on your back, head staring up at the ceiling with eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, regain some sense of self after getting all of it fucked out of you.

Mando returns, you’re made aware of that by the touch of a warm and damp washcloth to your abused pussy. You gasp and sit up on your elbows, looking down the length of your body to see the Mandalorian between your thighs, wiping away the mess that you both made. You want to thank him again but you can’t find the words within you, all of them lost to you because of this sudden display of dare you say affection.

“Stay here, gonna put us into hyperspeed. Once we’re up there, go clean up.” Mando orders softly, nodding his helmet at you. You nod back, still breathless, still shaking.


End file.
